


City and Countryside

by Bucksbegins



Series: UkaTake Week 2021 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, City boy ittetsu takeda, Fluff, M/M, hometown keishin ukai, kind of?, more of a character study, relationship study?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bucksbegins/pseuds/Bucksbegins
Summary: Takeda has the energy of the city pulsing under his skin.Ukai’s life doesn't move fast. He doesn't like change, but if it comes in the form of Ittetsu Takeda, he might be able to bear it.(This was inspired by the "City and Countryside" prompt from UkaTake Week that I'm only just getting around to posting)
Relationships: Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Series: UkaTake Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092584
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: UkaTake Week 2021





	City and Countryside

**Author's Note:**

> In the summer night,  
> While the evening still seems here,  
> Lo! the dawn has come.  
> In what region of the clouds  
> Has the wandering moon found place?
> 
> \- Kiyowara no Fukayabu

Takeda had never been comfortable sitting still.

He was born and raised in the city, where the pulse of traffic was never far from his periphery and the bustle of temperamental citizens reached him no matter how many windows he closed or doors he bolted.

It was impossible to escape the sound, the electricity of knowing the world outside of your door was always awake, always busy.

There was this tugging at the back of his mind that said _ , ‘Go out, go see, go find.’ _

Of course, it didn’t  _ say _ what you were supposed to find. That would be too easy.

In Takeda’s experience, this lack of specificity had led to many nights (and a few days) where the details of his adventures bled into hazes of light and faces that only seemed to feed the restless energy in him. Some nights had to be recounted to him through the barely contained laughter and the bacon-and-egg-full mouths of his friends.

They all felt the same thing, though. That pull towards crowded bars where it was impossible to hear your own thoughts over the music. The swoop in their stomachs when interested eyes locked onto theirs, promising something new and exciting. The satisfaction of watching light bleed back into the world from a curbside or the back of a taxi, hankering for coffee and pillow to crash on.

When university came to an end and classes and internships were exchanged for contracts and entry-level positions, that buzzing remained. Strumming something fidgety and restless in Takeda’s veins.

The friends who once had been so quick to say, “Yes, let’s go,” to a post-study drink or celebratory weekend bender were yawning through the phone and bowing out for nights in with newly minted spouses.

He found himself growing tired, too. There were days his body felt like a solid weight being dragged through bleary-eyed train commutes, late-night trips to the grocery store, and Saturdays spent marking reading responses.

He put his shoulder to the wheel, anyway.

He loved teaching, so he didn’t understand why there was still that urge in him to pace, to let his thoughts wander far from the two feet that struck the linoleum floors. To spend his lunches looking out of the windows with the same wistfulness of the students whose thoughts strayed far away from his lecture material.

That’s why, when a job far from the city was mentioned by one of his colleagues in passing, the first thought in his head was, ‘ _ go _ . ‘

It hadn’t been easy. He was a relatively new graduate. His work experience was limited to the Tokyo school district — their rules, their routines, their lifestyle.

The principal conducting his interview had been skeptical. but if there’s one thing Takeda could do, it was fight. His parents, his friends in college, his old boyfriends and high school friends could all attest to this - when he set his eye on something, he wouldn’t be dissuaded.

“Bull-headed” his mother would chide, “stubborn” his friends would coo, “impossible” his ex-boyfriends would scoff.

“Passionate,” The principal had noted, a self-satisfied gleam to his eye as Takeda conceded to his first offer.

He didn’t understand that Takeda was willing to take the pay cut, he was willing to move hours from the city that had raised him and shaped him, willing to forgo the alum-gifted libraries and scholarship-granting athletic funds because for the first time since he and his college friends had gotten high and broken onto the roof of their dorm building, that  _ something _ in the back of his head was sated and quiet.

Back then, on some warm spring night in sophomore year, he’d laid on the unforgiving concrete and opened his arms to the sky, light pollution bending a haze across the true black vastness of the universe above.

It had been so wide, so endless, so full of possibilities that the little twitch in his fingers had stilled and the press of “what if I never-“ that weighed on his mind every time he closed his eyes melted away. The angle of the earth, the downward tilt that had him racing and stumbling  _ onward _ ,  _ forward _ , levelled out and his galloping pace had slowed to a stop.

He felt like he could breathe.

When he stepped out of Karasuno High School, he tipped his head back in the muted bustle of the afternoon, the crisp air from the mountains cutting down the street and ruffling the copy of the teaching contract clutched in his hands. A grin had pulled on his lips when he passed two men playing  _ igo _ on the street, brows furrowed in concentration.

This place made him feel like a cat who’d found a patch of sunlight to lay in.

It made him feel like he was walking on solid ground.

* * *

Ukai’s life had never been particularly  _ exciting _ .

Living in his hometown meant that life barely moved faster than that half-run you do when you’re just a little too far away from a door that someone is holding open for you.

When he met Takeda, he was sure his heart had never raced so quickly as he stared down at that stubborn set mouth and was bombarded by the relentless demand to coach his volleyball club.

Up to that point, the thing prompting him to get out of bed, or into it at the end of the day, was the normal rhythm of life. One that kept the sun moving and timecards punching in and out but didn’t exactly touch anyone directly.

It wasn’t a terrible way to exist. He was comfortable, he had a job and friends and something to do on the weekend, but he couldn’t say he was exactly  _ ecstatic _ to hear his alarm go off.

There was something about meeting Takeda that changed all of that.

Ukai had always been a wait-in-line kind of man. He was content to shift from foot-to-foot a few paces away from two old friends chatting in front of the entrance of the grocery store. He was someone who had no reason to use their car horn or do anything but grumble when a customer expressed their dissatisfaction with his business.

Takeda was decidedly none of those things.

He was the type to put out his elbows and push. He would bounce on his toes in a line like there were wings on his ankles fluttering and pressing him to move forward.

Takeda wasn’t someone who was afraid to say what was on his mind. Whether that was to relentlessly pursue an old coach or to call the waitress back over and tell them, “That’s not what he ordered.”

Ukai remembered with vivid clarity the way Takeda had thrown his head back and laughed the first time he caught Ukai grumbling about his relentless honesty.

“'Passive aggressive' is not in my vocabulary,” He had replied when he finally had the breath to speak, a glint sparkling in his eyes.

That’s what Takeda did. He got to the heart of the matter. His intelligent eyes sought out the truth and hounded you until you admitted it.

Ukai had grown up in a town where everyone and their mother had known you from the time you were in diapers. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to unlearn the policy of gritting his teeth and bearing whatever inconveniences were thrown at him, but around Takeda he could feel the little knot in his shoulders, the pressure behind his eyes, ease ever so slightly. There was no fear of his unpleasant attitude making it back to his parents. When he was with Takeda, he didn’t feel the need to guard himself, to wait for the side-eye that told him whatever he’d just done would be discussed over tea in the staff room later.

He was a breath of fresh air - a breeze in the sweltering heat of summer. Something that told him “the world is changing” and that he’d better pay attention to how.

It urged him out of bed, the exhaustion in his bones incomparable to the excitement that spurred him on, just for the chance to see him again.

It pulled him like gravity into Takeda’s orbit, urging him to wrap an arm around his shoulders or ruffle a hand through his hair, anything to dispel the static charge building under his skin.

He wanted to reach out.

He wanted to see the spark in Takeda’s eyes when he realized Ukai wasn’t joking around.

He wanted to lean into Takeda’s chest and listen to the rabbit-pulse of his heart because he couldn’t imagine someone with so much energy ever allowing himself to settle into a predictable rhythm.

That was the thing that made him irrationally nervous - how flighty Takeda seemed. The way he held the spirit of a bustling city in his chest. His determination was the stampede of morning rush hour, his passion never slept, his mischief those secret places hidden in alleyways and behind unassuming doors.

Ukai wanted desperately to hold the depth within himself that would be able to house Takeda. To take the feet that scrambled across the pavement and lungs that gasped for every breath of life and give them enough space to roam until he was sated and content. But no, Ukai felt like a one-room apartment - fine, comfortable, good enough, but nowhere near the space Takeda needed. He could see him now, pounding on the walls, the carpet growing threadbare as he paced in circles, looking for a way out.

Takeda needed more. He needed a high rise. He needed something as exciting and surprising as the stories he told of late-night adventures and spontaneous city-wide treasure hunts.

He agonized over his inadequacies. Takeda deserved multitudes and the only enticements Ukai could offer were enclosed between the four walls of a 40-year-old gymnasium and brisk walks to the convenience store for the same old shitty cup of coffee.

If Ukai was responsible for clipping Takeda’s wings, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forgive himself, because the only thing he could think of that was worse than not being able to love Takeda was being hated by him.

* * *

It happened over dinner.

Well, it happened over  _ sake _ , which happened over dinner.

Ukai finally pulled himself up by the bootstraps and leaned heavily on his haze of alcohol and nicotine to meet Takeda’s eyes.

“Do you miss it?” He asked, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He had been on this line of thought for a while, so it took him a moment to understand why Takeda cocked his head and gave him a dopey grin.

“Miss what?” He wondered, leaning a rosy cheek into the cradle of his hand.

Ukai’s bravado was like an eel in his hands, but he looked into his cup and pressed forward anyway, “The city… You know, all your friends, your family, everything. It’s much more exciting than out here.”

Takeda’s face still held the soft grin when Ukai looked back up.

“It’s exciting out here,” He replied.

Ukai snorted, “Arguing with the kimchi stall lady every Sunday doesn’t count.”

Takeda laughed heartily at that, “What are you talking about? Granny Kojima loves me! She said the only reason she’s still alive is so she personally rap my knuckles anytime I compare her food to anything from my 'disgraceful city establishments.'”

Ukai smiled into his cup, taking a drink before grumbling, “You’re dreaming. She almost stopped serving  _ me _ when she found out we worked together.”

This earned another laugh – deep from the chest – as Takeda hunched towards the table, tucking his face into the crook of his elbow.

They recovered, silence stretching between them as Ukai sipped at the dredges of his drink, the clatter from the tables with patrons still in them filling in the background noise.

It was a restaurant they’d been to many times for these sorts of “planning meetings.” 

Ukai had gone to high school with the son of the owner and they stayed open late. They liked the booths that crowded along the wall, their high backs giving the illusion of privacy while encouraging the celebratory mood that seeped in from the rest of the room.

Ukai liked it here, and he’d decided that even if Takeda didn’t answer him – even if he spent the next week dodging every personal question thrown at him – Ukai’d still ask him back once next Friday rolled around.

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard people talk about this place like that,” Takeda said, his words slightly muffled in his sleeve, but still clear enough for Ukai to hear, even if he didn’t understand what he was saying.

When Ukai made a grunt of confusion, Takeda lifted his head, eyes peering out from behind his arm like an alligator.

“The town… Everyone always talks about it like it’s such a terrible place to end up,” Takeda elaborated, “Like… no one could ever be happy staying here for the rest of their lives.”

Ukai didn’t read into it… He couldn’t read into it.

If he read into the way Takeda’s eyes pinned him with a melancholy gaze, he wouldn’t be able to blame the heat crawling up his neck on the alcohol.

It almost sounded like he-

“This is a beautiful place,” Takeda breathed, warm and heavy into the crook of his arm, “I want to stay here forever.”

Ukai could feel the hope inflating in his chest, threatening to run rampant and make him do something stupid. His skepticism, his self-preservation, pulled it back. It forced him to question if Takeda was really thinking straight about all of this.

“But,” Ukai pressed, “The city is so-“

“Crowded,” Takeda grunted, picking his head up off the table and fixing Ukai with a flat look, “Smelly,  _ restless _ . It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.”

“It’s  _ alive _ ,” Ukai countered.

“No-”

Takeda’s eyes were sharp. When Ukai blinked through his own haze, he wondered if Takeda was still drunk at all by the way his face suddenly seemed so focused and intense.

“-it’s not,” He said firmly.

He was glad Takeda continued because he couldn't manage to pull his dry tongue from the roof of his mouth to ask him to elaborate.

Takeda leaned his elbows on the table, drawing Ukai unconsciously towards him in turn.

“This place is alive,” Takeda elaborated, “Out here, where you can hear the breeze in the grass, and smell the earth in the air.”

He took a deep breath like he would be able to smell something other than cigarette smoke and stale beer in a place like this.

“You can wake up in the morning and see the sunrise, not just the brick of the neighbouring apartment building,” He went on, eyes far away and wistful, even though he was describing a place he sat in the middle of, “The people know you. They care if you’re well or unwell, whether you got your morning paper or tried their grandmother’s udon recipe. They aren’t just pushing past you on their way to something more important or ignoring the life they live right now for the one they want in ten years.”

Takeda slumped back down into his arm, “I never felt at peace in the city. I never felt at peace anywhere,” His words were once again muffled in his sleeve, but Ukai was glad Takeda couldn’t see the emotions he was too drunk to hide seeping onto his face, “But when I got here, it was like the world finally stopped spinning… Like I could stand on two feet and breathe for the first time.”

Ukai watching him. Watched the way his glasses skewed sideways as he sat up, watched the hand that reached up to adjust them, the purse of his lips as he thought of what to say next.

“Suddenly, the days seemed longer, full of possibilities. I was pouring myself into things that actually paid off,” He grinned, “I was inspired every day to be the best I could be – for myself, for the team… for you.”

Ukai swallowed hard, meeting Takeda’s eyes as they peered over the rim of his glasses.

“Out of everything, meeting you has been my favourite part,” Takeda said with a smile, the drunk blush on his cheeks burning onto his ears, “I thought nothing could get better than the croak of frogs on the street after it rains… or the sound of windchimes on everyone’s back porch. But getting to be around you,” He paused, “You always give me that feeling – like the world has stopped tilting. Like I can stop and look around without worrying about what comes next. Like my head has finally cleared enough to fall asleep.”

Ukai didn’t take his eyes off of Takeda as he fiddled with his empty beer glass, “I used to do that with… well, with drugs, with alcohol… But getting that feeling with you is a million times better. I feel like I could hold onto it for forever,” He peered across the table at Ukai, no hint of his coquettish smile as he said, “If you’d let me.”

Ukai didn’t know if he could speak, even if he tried.

His heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel the pulse in his wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, eyes. It was singing to him, chanting ‘ _ go, go, go _ .’

And for once in his life, he obeyed.

If the table had been wider, Ukai was sure even his alcohol-heavy limbs would have leapt on top of it just to grab a hold of Takeda’s face and kiss him soundly and squarely until he was sure his actions couldn’t be misinterpreted as a drunken accident or friendly affection.

Thankfully, all he had to do was tip forward, Takeda already leaning in to meet him.

His kiss was like summer rain – warm, soothing, and refreshing enough to cut through the sweat on the back of Ukai’s neck.

When they parted, Takeda was already smiling.

“If only you were as easy to woo sober as you are drunk,” Takeda said in the space between them.

They left the restaurant, tipping into each other and stumbling more than once as they tugged on their coats and crossed the threshold.

Takeda took a deep inhale of the crisp night air, turning back around to catch Ukai with a smile.

“See?” He lifted his arms, gesturing to the empty street in front of them and the dark sky above, “How could I want anything more than this?”

Ukai felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth, not because he agreed with Takeda but because he was so relieved to see his carefree grin.

He felt himself reach out, a jolt of apprehension momentarily jerking him back before he followed through, ruffling his hand through Takeda’s hair and pulling him out of the middle of the abandoned street.

They fell into step as Ukai steered them in the general direction of Takeda’s rental unit. 

Their comfortable silence gave Ukai a moment to turn Takeda’s declaration over in his head, the cool night air clearing it enough to begin deciphering his words.

“I think… I understand what you mean,” He said to the empty sidewalk that stretched out in front of them, “You know, that whole thing about the world spinning… I think that’s kind of how I feel when I step on a volleyball court. Like each second is precious in a way they aren’t any other time.”

Takeda looked up at him with a grin he could only describe as  _ adoring _ . It made Ukai blush all the way to the undyed roots of his hair.

Takeda didn’t say anything, but Ukai could see it in his eyes - they were saying, ' _Of course you’d find a way to relate this to volleyball_.'

“B-but then-” Ukai shored up his stuttering tongue, “-when I met you, the world started spinning like… really fast.”

He gulped, muttering, “It almost made me sick with how fast the world was spinning… I don’t think anything other than volleyball has gotten me more excited.”

That smile again and Ukai cursed, stopping in his tracks as he tried to sift through his alcohol-addled mind for the right thing to say.

“I’m not doing a very good job of this, am I?” Ukai gulped.

“No, but I really like watching you try,” Takeda replied, rounding on him to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet as Ukai scratched a hand through his hair.

Ukai nodded. It was a dream to have even gotten so many words out of his mouth. He felt like a high schooler behind the equipment shed, a pink and red envelope clutched in their sweaty hands as they confront their crush.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He sighed, eyes opening to look at Takeda fully.

His face was earnest and expectant. He had no intention of making this easy on Ukai and, somehow, he found a teaspoon of relief in that thought.

Takeda would never stop checking his wristwatch in line. He would never stop sprinting from his classroom to the gym at the end of the day or driving Ukai’s car over the speed limit.

What Ukai could change was how he saw it - not as the restless motion of unsatisfaction or the craving of change but as the excitement, the  _ elation _ , coursing through his veins from every small moment of his day.

“I think you belong here…” He tried, “In the countryside. You should… stay.”

Takeda grabbed the open flaps of his jacket and leaned forward to press a kiss to the steaming skin of his cheek.

“Thanks for the invitation,” He snickered, moving back just far enough to meet Ukai’s eyes, “I think I will.”

Ukai’s stomach made a dizzying somersault when Takeda tilted his chin to press their lips together.

If meeting Ukai had levelled out the ground under Takeda’s feet, Ukai was pretty sure his had angled downwards like the first drop of a rollercoaster.

He reached out a work-worn palm to brush over the tender skin of his neck, thumb laying against the steady beat in Takeda’s veins. It reminded Ukai that he still had a lot to learn about the man standing in front of him.

Something about that thought sent a thrill down Ukai’s spine.

Takeda pulled back slightly, nose bumping affectionately against his cheek, “Besides, who would feed the stray cats by your shop if I just up and left…”

Ukai narrowed his eyes, “I changed my mind, I’m buying you a one-way ticket back to Tokyo.”

Takeda’s still-half-drunk laugh bubbled between them as he tightened his grip on Ukai’s jacket and pressed off-centre kisses to his scowl.

“Come on,” Takeda grinned, looping his arm with Ukai’s and tugging him out towards the edge of town, “I want to go look at the stars.”


End file.
